Chapter 36

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Prepare for some history 101.  The person who makes a thoughtful comment gets a cookie!  :p

Chapter 36

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“Eliot!”

Miriam tensed, but before she could so much as scream, his reflexes snapped into action and the car quickly returned to the center of the road.

Miriam clutched at her seat, heart pounding as he glanced at her warily from the corner of his eye.

“What makes you ask that?”

“N-no reason,” she stammered, lacing her hands over her lap.  “I just…you’re not exactly what I would have pictured if I thought of a vampire.”

He smirked.  “And what would that be?”

She shrugged, smiling too—his amusement was contagious.  “Bats.”

Eliot grimaced.  “Hate the bloody devils.”

“Garlic.”

“A delicious garnish, I must say.”  He even had the nerve to lick his lips.

Miriam snorted—he sounded so darn smug.  “What about churches?  Crosses?  Holy water?”

“I was never very much of a pious soul,” he admitted.  “Being chased by holy men sporting wooden stakes didn’t help at all in helping me find religion.”

Miriam choked on a laugh.  “Can you fly?”

He glanced at her from across the dashboard.  “No, but I can fall if I leap from a high enough point.”

“What about healing?”  She asked, thinking of the indestructible monsters that starred in horror movies.  “If I stabbed you, right now, could you heal in the blink of an eye?”

“Probably,” he said, eyes scanning the road.  “As long as your weapon wasn’t made of wood.”

“Wood…”  Curious, she glanced out over the twisted branches of the forest that lined the road.  “You mean the whole stake thing is—”

“Accurate,” he said, mouth curling into a frown.  “It’s rather annoying when a pleasant stroll through the forest could be your last if the right slayer is lurking behind one of the trees.”

“But why?”  She wondered out loud.  “Why wood and not metal?”

“Because of the origin of vampires,” Eliot explained as he turned the car onto the road leading to her driveway.  “We are unnatural beings, shunned by nature itself—the natural enemy of witches.  Wood is their medium, therefore it destroys us...”

“Witches?”  Miriam shifted on her seat, intrigued.  “You mean green skin and evil cackle?”

“No.”  He glanced at her, suddenly serious.   “True witches are nothing at all like the way mortals like to depict them; they are pure beings in tune to the very heart of nature.  They live in harmony with the very rhythm of the earth—their powers are tied to every living soul.”

His wistful tone caught her attention.  Curious, she watched him, tucking a curl behind her ear.

“You make them sound beautiful,” she said softly.

He turned to full face her then, as the car came to a stop.  That amber gaze met hers and the look in it made her skin grow warm all over.

“They are.”

She had a feeling that they weren’t just speaking about witches anymore.

“S-so,” she said nervously, suddenly struggling to breathe.  “Do you know any witches?  In real life, I mean.”

Eliot shook his head.  “Not many.  As a vampire, I go against the very rhythm of nature—everything a witch strives to protect.  We are natural enemies.  Though,” he shrugged, “I’ve met a few witches who seemed quite nice actually—when they weren’t chasing after me with wooden sticks.”

He winked and Miriam burst out laughing even though the mental image wasn’t all that funny.  She grinned, trying to think of some playful reply, but then a dark thought popped into her mind before she could help it.  Almost without thinking, she found herself voicing it out loud.

“What happens if a witch becomes a vampire?”

Eliot’s grin vanished.  His eyes turned a dark shade of crimson—for a moment, Miriam was sure he wouldn’t answer.

Then, carefully he placed a hand on the steering wheel as if to steady himself.

“Witches are not like other creatures when it comes to being changed into vampires.  Humans—mortals—have no choice, but witches…they have enough magic in their blood to fight the curse if they wanted.  To die,” he added on a flat note.

“Any witch who becomes a vampire willingly makes a choice; a choice to forsake everything she’s ever stood for.   To turn her back on nature itself and become an abomination—something subhuman.  They…”

He trailed off and stared through the windshield as if trying to come up with the right words.  Dark enough words.

In the end, he just shook his head.  “Let me just say, that very few witches choose to make that sacrifice.”

“And if they do?”   Miriam asked.

“Tell me, can you ever mix oil and water?”

She blinked, thrown off by the question.  “No.  It’s impossible.”

Eliot nodded.  “Think of it that way; vampire and witch blood rarely mixes well.  What you get is something that is both, but at the same time neither.”

“Like Ying and Yang?”

“Something like that.”  Suddenly, he reached for her hand and raised it so that it was held out towards him, palm first.  Deliberately he trailed a pale finger across the width of it and Miriam had to fight down a shudder.

“They have the strength of a vampire,” he went on, oblivious to her reaction.  Gently, he curled her fingers into a fist.   “But they cannot feed; the very smell of blood makes them sick.  And pain—”

Lightly, he seized a bit of skin between her finger tips, just enough to pinch.

“All vampires can still feel pain; but they feel it so much more.  The slightest paper cut can be as agonizing as a stab wound.”

“That sounds awful,” Miriam whispered, even though the ‘pain’ running through her fingertips wasn’t very painful at all.  Heart pounding, she watched as he gently unfolded her fingers and just settled for holding it cupped in his palm.

“More than you can imagine,” Eliot admitted with a frown.  “They also loose access to their powers, at least in the nature sense.  What they are left with is a twisted sort of magic as corrupted as the rest of them."

“But who would do that?”  Miriam wondered.  "What?"

“Only a full-blooded witch could make such a choice,” Eliot said.

“Still…” Miriam knew that her life wasn’t so perfect at the moment, but she couldn’t imagine turning her back on everything she knew and becoming something…

Else.

“You’d be surprised,” Eliot murmured, staring out through the window at the snow-covered grove.  “Lust for power, or money can make people do stupid things.”

“Or love,” Miriam blurted without thinking.

Eliot’s fingers went stiff around hers.

“Or love.”

They sat for a moment, staring at each other from opposite ends of the car.   Outside of the windows, another batch of flurries was drifting down to slowly coat the sidewalk.

“Is that why you became a vampire?”  Miriam asked as the silence became unbearable.

She instantly regretted it.

Eliot closed up.  His face went blank—as if a curtain had been drawn over it.  Cold amber eyes met hers with an empty expression.

“As I said before," he began in a tone like ice, "only witches have a choice.”

“O-oh.” She rushed to apologize, mentally kicking herself for ruining whatever had been building between them.  “Eliot, I’m—”

He startled her by reaching out, cupping her chin in the palm of his icy hand.  His thumb gently brushed against her lower lip, knocking her senseless.

Whoa.  Miriam had to hold her breath just to keep from gasping out loud as that icy cold shocked her deep.

“You looked odd when you’re worried,” he remarked softly, trailing that touch over to the corner of her mouth.

“Wh-what?”

“I think” he added, “…I like it better when you smile.”

Miriam stared.  She had no idea what was happening—how he had possibly gone from seemingly angry to playful all in the space of a second.  Before she could demand an explanation, he pulled away as slipped from the car.

“I’m going to see that Lizzie, you like so much,” he called as he stood onto the gravel road.  He stared back at her, almost seeming to hesitate.  “Do you want to—”

“Yes!”  She had her door open in an instant and climbed out onto the icy slush before he could change his mind.

Pathetic, she scolded herself as she leapt onto the curb and hurried after him across the snow-covered yard—but then, she caught sight of the way he watched her from over his shoulder and there wasn’t room inside her head for anything else.

He led her up past her house, across the grove near his own monstrous black one.  Rather than go inside, he took a narrow path that cut behind it instead, leading to the guesthouse.

Inside, Lizzie sat in the center of a nearly dark room wearing an oversized sweatshirt and muttering to herself under her breath.  The only light came from a window on the cabin's far side--just enough to make out the stacks of books and jars of mysterious liquid that surrounded her.

“Don’t interrupt me,” she snapped in their direction, raising a pale hand.  “However, you came at just the right time—”  She jabbed a finger in the direction of a small pouch resting on a table near the door.  “Fill it,” she ordered.  “With Hollyweed—only Hollyweed.  I need enough to last a few uses so make sure you gather enough.”

Eliot glared, but he reached over anyway and snatched the pouch in his fist.

“Where the hell am I going to find Hollyweed?”  He demanded.

“In the forest,” Lizzie snapped, as though it were obvious.  Miriam almost expected her to add a snarky, ‘duh.’

“According to my research there should be scores of it growing on the hills around here,” she added, running her fingers through her cropped hair.  “Seeing as how I’m in no condition to go out looking for it myself, I suppose I’ll just have to settle for your help instead.  Your remember the land well enough, hmmm?”

She made a shooing motion with her pale fingers.

“Glad to be of use,” Eliot muttered.

“You should be,” Lizzie chirped sweetly.  “Now go.”

“Come on,” Eliot scoffed, ushering Miriam out of the door.

He didn’t seem angry though she saw as they slipped back out onto the snow.  He just sighed as he tucked the pouch into his pocket, reminding her of a caring older brother humoring a bratty kid sister.

“Is she always like this?” She wondered, glancing back at the cabin’s wooden door.

“No," Eliot said.  “Usually she’s worse.”

They cut back down through the house, with Eliot leading that way through the grove of trees in the direction of the even deeper forest that lined the small row of houses.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, glancing back.  “If you don’t want…”

“I don’t mind, “Miriam said quickly.   “Hunting for ‘hollyweed’ sounds fun.”

Eliot gave her a strange look, but he slowed down enough for her to drawn even. Side by side, they headed down the small hill that led to the thicker forest.

“What is it anyway?”  She asked, tucking her hands into the pocket of her coat.  "Hollyweed?"

“A plant,” Eliot replied.  He copied her, slipping his own pale fingers into the pockets of his jeans.  “It’s rare and poisonous—you probably wouldn’t be able to recognize the official name.”

“A plant?”  Skeptically, Miriam glanced around the desolate landscape where the trees stood  like naked soldiers barring their path.  “That grows in winter?”

That earned her another odd look and a raised red eyebrow.

“You’d be surprised,” she heard Eliot say softly as they slipped between the first set of gnarled trunks.

They both fell silent as they left the small neighborhood of houses behind and ventured deeper and deeper beyond the dark trees.  It was like stepping through a portal, Miriam realized.

Everything seemed sharper, covered in ice.  Bluish light flitered down, giving everything an ethereal hue.

Even the empty branches seemed to sparkle beneath a dusty layer of snow.  Twisted shadows loomed overhead, giving everything a slightly darker edge than the average serene picture of winter.

Or maybe, the ominous chill running down her spine had everything to do with the fact that she walked beside a vampire?

Curious, she glanced over at Eliot to find him looking uneasy, too.  The line of his jaw was set.  Then, all at once he came to a sudden stop and held out his hand, blocking her way.

“You can come out,” he snarled into the shadows.

For a moment there was only silence.  Even the wind seemed to die down to nothing.  Then, her ears caught the end of a tinkling laugh, just as a pale figure congealed from the shadows.